


Shadows of the Glaive

by lj_todd



Category: Final Fantasy XV, Kingsglaive
Genre: Apologies, Belief, Comrades, Dreaming, Elemental Magic, GlaiveWeek, GlaiveWeek2018, Longing, M/M, Mafia AU, apocalypse au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-13
Updated: 2018-07-10
Packaged: 2019-03-30 23:31:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 12,580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13962447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lj_todd/pseuds/lj_todd
Summary: (Collection for Glaive Week 2018)Moments, some fleeting, some ever lasting, have power over all souls. No matter how much we may wish they don't.





	1. Longing for Better

**Author's Note:**

> My collection of stories for the second event for [Glaive Week](https://glaiveweek.tumblr.com/)

Titus Drautos had not set out after the loss of his home, the loss of his _family_ , with the intent to become a double agent. A traitor to the King who, once, had held his unshakeable loyalty.

He had served as Captain of the Kingsglaive for a long time before an agent of Niflheim had approached him.

Had it been a day earlier or perhaps a day later he would have either introduced the man to the blade of his sword. But it had been the day he had watched one of his men, one of _his_ Glaives die. 

A sweet boy with bright, laughing eyes and dark hair. 

A sweet boy who had joined the Glaive for the same reason all the rest had. To protect his home and those he cared about. 

A boy who Drautos had taken an immediate liking to, whom he had personally trained.

A boy who had reminded him, perhaps a bit painfully, of the brother he had lost to the fires of Niflheim's war machine. 

A boy who, looking back, had been young, far too young, only sixteen, but had been approved by the Council. 

A boy who had bled to death in Drautos' arms after shielding the Captain from a daemon's claws.

He had been out at a bar, trying to drink to forget the fear in those once bright eyes, to forget the sound of the boy choking on his own blood, silently begging Drautos to end his, when the agent had approached him.

Looking back he wished he could say he'd been surprised by the appearance of a Niflheim agent in Insomnia but he couldn't. Lucis had its own spies in the Empire after all. And when the man had explained why he had approached Drautos, why he'd taken the risk, Drautos wished he could say that he hadn't sat there and listened.

But he had.

He had sat, listened and all the while thought of the boy he hadn't been able to save.

A boy who had fought, killed and died for a King who would sacrifice every person and every thing in his kingdom for the sake of his own son's survival.

The choice, he thought, looking back, was not a difficult one to make.

He had wanted better for the generations to come. He had wanted them to at least be free of the axe hanging over them all with a Caelum on the throne.

The tool he was offered to carry out the mission put before him was some sort of tech he had never before seen or even heard of. Something that, though given to him by the same Niflheim agent who had approached him, seemed to be beyond even the cunning creations that Niflheim scientists had worked for decades on. As armour that he carried within himself, that answered only to him, that felt like it had always been a part of his very being.

With the armour came a new identity.

General Glauca.

Fierce and infamous leader of Niflheim's armies.

He had only one true goal in mind.

To bring about, or at least live to see, the end of the Caelum family.

To see his home, his family, and all those sacrificed for the sake of one royal son, avenged.

And then a new recruit joined the Kingsglaive.

Nyx Ulric.

Impulsive, and with a saviour complex a mile long, Nyx was also charming and easily won people over, Drautos included, though the Captain of the Kingsglaive did his best not to show it. He cared deeply for his fellow Kingsglaives and risked his life, more than once, to save others even when it meant disobeying direct orders.

He drove Drautos crazy with that habit.

Always risking himself, and by extension others, by throwing himself into fights to save others.

All, Drautos knew, because he hadn't been able to save his sister when Galahd fell to the Empire.

Nyx reminded Drautos, painfully so, of the boy who had sacrificed himself and been a catalyst for all that Drautos had since become.

But more than that, something about Nyx, the easy way he accepted everyone, the way he would fight to protect those he knew needed protecting, the way he would look at Drautos when he thought the man wasn't paying attention, it all made Drautos want something more, something better, for the first time since stepping into his role as Glauca. For the first time in years, Drautos wanted more than vengeance and the Caelum family dead at his feet. He allowed himself, in quiet moments between battles and missions and planning, to dream, to hope, of something other than blood and death. 

He thought of a life beyond that which he had thus far led. He dreamt of a simple life in a reclaimed Galahd, where Nyx could reopen the bar he and Libertus so often talked about. A simple life where he and Nyx shared something more than just the roles of captain and soldier. A simple life where, each morning, he woke to see Nyx' still sleeping face, relaxed and peaceful. A simple life where there was no more bloodshed and death. A simple life where they were happy.

It was, Drautos knew, only a dream.

One that would never be.

But knowing that and accepting it were, he found, two different things and, though he knew he shouldn't, knew that he should not do anything to corrupt the light he saw in Nyx, he couldn't stop himself for reaching out. For wanting something, however fleeting it might be, that wasn't just the blood and violence and death that had become his life since first donning his armour and becoming Glauca.

He reached and, perhaps most surprisingly, Nyx reached back.

Every day with Nyx, every morning waking to that smile, those bright eyes, so full of life and hope, killed a small piece of him but, knowing what was yet to come, the mission he had yet to complete, Drautos took it all the same.

He wanted better, dreamed of better, but he had made his choice long ago and he knew, one day, Nyx would learn the truth and this dream, this false world they had created together, would shatter.

He knew all this but when he saw the broken look in Nyx' eyes the night the truth was revealed, the night King Regis fell, the night Insomnia fell, Drautos knew, no matter how the battle ended, no matter if he died or if Nyx died, he was the one who had truly lost.


	2. Belief

Nyx, like his mother before him, did not worship all of the Six.

It had been a great strain of her relationship with his father and, in turn, a great strain on Nyx' relationship with the man. 

Kaleb Ulric had been born in Insomnia, raised there until the age of ten, and believed in equal prayer to all the Astrals. His wife, Helena, had not agreed. She had grown on a little island just off the coast of Galahd and on that little island the only Astral the people had known, the only one who had truly mattered, had been Leviathan, the Goddess of the Sea. Only Leviathan heard the prayers there. Requests for calm seas and nets full of fish. She was a fickle one though and her love was hard earned.

Helena had raised Nyx with the same love and respect for the Goddess of the Sea that her parents had raised her with. She taught him the old stories, ones rarely told even in Altissia where she was said to slumber and where the greatest altar to her had been built. She taught him that, for their people, the people of sea and sky, Leviathan was goddess and mother and death all in one and, as such, she was to be feared, respected and loved in equal measure.

After the fall of Galahd, after the loss of his home, the death of his sister, his mother had retreated back to her childhood home, taking to the temple there. She had lost everything but Nyx and spent her days in prayer or tears. Sometimes both.

Nyx had tried, at first, to stay and be a comforting reminder that she had not lost everything but then came the chance to fight back. The chance to avenge all they had lost. An offer, from King Regis himself, to join the elite Kingsglaive. He had prayed, for two days, kneeling before the altar for Leviathan, begging her for some sign, some sense of guidance, and the third day he woke to find the seas raging, the wind howling fiercely, ripping at the sails of the ships, and in the wind he swore he heard a voice. A voice that was distinctly female but fierce and powerful as the wind.

It spoke only one word but it was the answer he had sought from the Mother of the Tides.

_"Go."_

He had kissed his mother goodbye, swearing when he returned it would be when Lucis won the war. It would be when Niflheim fell.

Insomnia was bright and bustling and seemingly immune to the war.

The King's magic, the magic of the Crystal, protected the city and the people and thus it became a refuge not only for those seeking to fight back but those seeking a safe haven.

His first weeks in the city were spent training, learning to be a Kingsglaive, learning what his new place in the world was to be. He was surprised when Captain Drautos took to mentoring him, personally overseeing his training in a way he didn't seem to do with the other newcomers. A few of the senior Kingsglaives grumbled about it, calling it favouritism, but it only served to make Nyx work all the harder to prove that he was worthy of being there. That he was just as strong as the rest of them. Even if he had a bit of difficulty with following orders from time to time.

When he was finally trained to harness the King's magic he displayed a rare and raw talent for it. Able to channel and control the magic in a way that, according to Captain Drautos, was eerily similar to the royal family. And the first time he successfully warped across the training yard gave him the same rush that leaping from the high cliffs near where he'd grown up had.

He felt powerful.

He felt invincible.

He was ready to face any challenge and conquer it.

And then came his first mission.

Things went wrong from the start. Too many of the newly appointed Kingsglaive froze up in battle when they saw their friends and comrades fall to the MTs and daemons. The intel they had been proved with was wrong and, because of it, so many died that the ground was soaked in as much Lucian blood as the enemy's.

Nyx fought fiercely, struggling through the instinct to simply turn and run, finding his best friend across the field trying to shield a family who hadn't managed to escape the advancing forces in time. They fought together, managing to buy time and clear a path for the family but, by the end of the battle, it was clear the Kingsglaive, and Lucis itself, had been dealt a heavy blow.

Seeing so many dead, both Kingsglaive and ordinary civilians, had rattled something loose in Nyx' chest. Something that had wedged, hard and fast, between his ribs the night his sister had been taken from him. And when it dislodged it left a fresh wound, wide and gaping, where he was certain his soul was meant to be.

He had tried to help collect the bodies of the fallen, wanting to return his fellow Kingsglaive to their families or at least see they received proper burials, but upon finding the remains of a local girl, a girl with long dark hair and a pale, bloodstained face, he had frozen and the night his home had burned played through his mind and he could hear his sister's screams for him to help her.

Captain Drautos had sent him quickly back to the transports to Insomnia with the other young Kingsglaives.

Returning to the city did not silence he screams in his head and, after his debriefing, Nyx wandered the streets, afraid to go home to sleep, afraid of what nightmares would await him there. He also ignored when his phone buzzed, Libertus wanting to check in, make certain he was okay.

He was surprised, when he finally stopped walking, to find himself outside a temple.

He could have turned, could have walked away, because faith, as Captain Drautos often said, would not save lives in the war. But as he stared at the aged and worn carvings around the ancient looking door, Nyx couldn't help but think of the temple back home and he found himself walking through the door.

The temple was quiet, a few lanterns burning around the outer walls, and only three people sat before the altar, one of whom, an elderly man in pale grey and blue robes, was the priest. The man looked up when his footsteps echoed in the otherwise silent room and Nyx bowed his head respectfully.

The priest smiled gently, warmly, and nodded before turning back to lead the prayers.

Nyx stood for a moment, staring up at the intricately carved statue above the altar, seeing all the details the artist had put into it, the delicate lines of Leviathan's wings fanning out around her long, powerful body made for a stunning depiction and he thought how much his mother would love to see it.

Drawing a deep breath, Nyx stepped up to the altar and lit a candle, thinking of the lives lost, the lives given for the sake of King and nation. He stood there, watching the candle flame flicker and dance before he slowly stepped back and knelt to pray, speaking quietly aloud.

"Hear my prayer, O Mother of Tides, and let my cry come onto thee."

He bowed his head and continued to pray, asking Leviathan to watch not over him but the other members of the Kingsglaive. To watch over those who were so willing to lay their lives down for King and nation. He asked her to judge them based on their actions not the actions of the men giving them the orders they were meant to follow.

By the time he finished he and the priest were the only ones in the temple and he sat for a while longer, staring up at the statue, the altar, and drew a deep breath as he stood. He felt better than he had when first entering the temple though there was still anger and pain simmering beneath his skin. He moved to the altar and reached in his pocket, finding the keychain charm Selena had given him only weeks before her death and unhooked it from his keys. Laying it on the altar he murmured a quiet prayer of offering before turning and leaving.

After that, every time he could, he went to that temple to pray and offer tribute to Leviathan. It helped, he found, to do something so familiar. It helped to stave off the nightmares and the thoughts of how, despite all they were doing, how hard they were fighting and how many lives had been sacrificed, they were, technically, losing the war.

The days turned to weeks.

The weeks turned to years.

And, through it all, the only thing he kept to beyond the Kingsglaive was the temple.

At least once a week, sometimes more depending on how poorly a mission or battle went, he would kneel before the altar and pray, offering his thanks to Leviathan for her blessings, even if he did not always understand or see them. He left offerings, usually trinkets he had picked up in the market places or something he had carved himself when unable to sleep at night because of the dreams and nightmares chasing him from sleep. He never told anyone about the temple, not even Libertus, wanting to keep something, some small thing, for himself.

He did not expect anything from the goddess, never asked for anything for himself in his prayers besides the safety of his friends and comrades, so he never looked for anything special or out of place in his life, despite the priest telling him, time and time again that the Mother of Tides favoured him.

But then, during what was supposed to be a routine escort of the King to a nearby noble's home just outside the city, everything changed.

The convoy, consisting of the King's car, a truck full of Crownsguard soldiers and one of Kingsglaive, had been ambushed, the King's car forced off the road and the mix of Crownsguard and Kingsglaive had leapt into action, the Crownsguard surrounding the King and his Shield, as was their duty, while the Kingsglaive attempted to deal with the MTs and daemons that, somehow, had come so close to Insomnia without being detected.

Nyx had tried to keep a level head, tried to remember the last dressing down that Drautos, who was guarding the King alongside Clarus, only to forget it all when Libertus suddenly went down, a daemon attempting to rip his throat open with its teeth.

He hurled his kukri, warping after it and tackling the daemon off his friend, who shouted his name in surprise even as he and the daemon, which was trying to claw and bite at him, went rolling across the ground. His fingers just barely curled around the hilt of his weapon before he was warping again, blindly this time, trying to get the daemon to chase him. When he stopped, he felt water splash over his boots and realized he'd warped to the edge of the lake they had been driving by only minutes earlier and, looking up, he let out a started sound as he threw up a quick shield when the daemon he'd saved Libertus from came charging at him.

It slammed into the shield, forcing Nyx back a step from the force, and howled its rage before slamming again and again, weakening the shield with every blow.

Nyx, struggling to keep the shield up, heard different voices shouting, heard the sound of a warp, seeing Pelna and, surprisingly, Luche, trying to rush to his aid but the shield shattered and the force of it sent him flying back, his kukri dropping from his hand, water flying as he landed on his back, knocking the wind from him, in the shallows.

The daemon snarled, saliva dripping from its jaws, and leapt for him.

His eyes widened and he heard Drautos shout his name, barely able to see his captain attempting to break rank, sword drawn back to throw, to warp, but he knew no one would get to him before the daemon had him. This was his swan song.

And then the wind began to roar, a gust ripping over the surface of the lake strongly enough to catch hold of the daemon and throw it back, away from where Nyx lay.

Nyx, gasping, fighting to get air into his burning lungs, felt the water churn around him and then, suddenly, it rose, lifting him with it. Or rather he was lifted by something that had slid beneath him, something that was rising from the water to loom over the battlefield. Blinking, he managed to lift his head, what little air he'd been able to draw into his lungs leaving him as he stared up at the impossible.

The wind continued to roar, the lake's water slammed against the shores, churning and rolling like the sea caught in a fierce storm and rising from the water, towering high and powerful, water glistening on moonlight coloured scales, was the Mother of Tides, the Hydraenm, herself.

Leviathan was larger than anything Nyx could have imagined, her dark eyes trained on the battlefield below them, where soldiers and daemons alike had ceased fighting, staring up at the goddess before them. Nyx was quick to realize that he was rest on one of the mighty coils of the goddess' long and twisting body, one of her wings just a breath away from his hand. When she shifted, body coiling tighter, Nyx scrambled to find his balance even as he realized she would not let him fall.

She was protecting him.

The daemons below howled and snarled, turning to face this new, massive foe, and Nyx shivered when he felt the rumble that echoed from her.

When she opened her jaws, teeth shining and sharp as spears, the bellowing roar echoed with the power of wind and storm. Rain suddenly began to fall, the water slammed harder into the shore, drawing daemons out into the lake where they struggled against the raging currents, or outright crushing them beneath the force. And then came the bolts of lightning, slamming into the MTs and remaining daemons on the ground, the rain beating down harder and faster.

Nyx, finally able to breath once more, slowly, carefully, climbed to his feet, looking down and finding his friends staring up in shock and awe. Even King Regis appeared to be torn between surprise and wonder and, slowly, he looked up at Leviathan's face.

Her dark eyes locked with his when she turned her head, still rumbling, the sound like thunder, like the crash of waves, and Nyx trembled slightly when she moved again, barely keeping his balance when she slowly lowered the coil he stood on to the bank of the lake.

He hesitated only a moment before leap down, the mud squelching loudly beneath his boots and, without a second thought, he turned, dropping to his knee, head bowing respectfully even as the old prayer dropped from his lips.

"Hear my prayer, O Mother of Tides, and let my cry come onto thee. I thank thee for thy gift and protection. Thank ye, O Mother of Tides, for thy aid and generosity."

He heard voices behind him and then a sharp gasp of surprise and, taking a chance, Nyx lifted his head to see whatever they were seeing, only to feel the breath catch in his throat and his eyes go wide at the sight before him.

Leviathan was gone but in her place was a woman. A woman, Nyx could only assume, that was her avatar.

She was beautiful. Her eyes still dark like the inky depths of the sea with long, silver hair floating around her like her wings had and porcelain skin that seemed to shin and sparkle. She was dressed in a flowing, pale white gown, but, tied about her left arm was a silk sash of bluish-purple. A near exact match for the sash Nyx wore tied to his belt as a reminder of his home and family. When Leviathan moved, walking towards him, she moved atop the surface of the water as though she weighed nothing at all.

When she suddenly waved her hand, his fallen kukri, lost in the water, flew up, her fingers lightly curling around the hilt as she continued forward.

Nyx immediately bowed his head again when she reached him, murmuring the prayer once more, only to fall silent when delicate fingers fitted beneath his chin and, slowly, tilted his head up. Blinking, his gaze locked with hers and she smiled down at him.

When she spoke it was a single word and it was as quiet as a gentle breeze off the sea but, somehow, carried so that all watch could hear her.

"Mine."

He gasped softly as she pressed his kukri into his hand and she smiled down at him before leaning in, pressing a soft, barely there kiss to his forehead.

His eyes slipped shut as he felt a warmth and comfort fill him that he hadn't felt in years and, when he blinked them open, Leviathan was gone.

When a hand suddenly grasped his shoulder, he jerked, ready for a fight, only to settle when he found Drautos standing there, sword still in hand, eyes almost comically wide as he seemed to be trying to comprehend all that he had just seen.

"Are..." Drautos cleaned his throat though Nyx would forever remember that the stoic Captain of the Kingsglaive had just squeaked. "Are you alright, Nyx?"

Nyx blinked but nodded all the same.

Had Drautos ever called him by his given name before? Had he ever looked at him like that? All concern and relief? He couldn't remember, too many memories of the man giving him a dressing down or Wall duty for so called insubordination, but he didn't think he could ever recall a moment like this before.

But then, he supposed, as Drautos helped him to his feet, it wasn't every day an actual goddess appeared and saved the life of a simple Glaive.

He knew there would be questions, from Drautos, from his fellow Kingsglaive, perhaps from the King himself, about what had just happened but all Nyx could think about was finding something special to leave as an offering for Leviathan as a sign of thanks for her protection. 

As Drautos led him towards where the other Kingsglaive were waiting, Nyx couldn't help but look back at the lake, the water calm and still, the clouds parting overhead and the sun shining once more. 

He smiled and, silently, offered another prayer of thanks.


	3. Mafia AU

Nyx stood at the back of the church, a silent shadow, ever watchful and alert, as his boss' only son, Noctis, married a girl from the Nox Fleuret family. Well known and well respected, the Nox Fleuret family just happened to, like the Lucis Caelum family, have a seat at the High Table.

Normally, Nyx didn't mind acting as a glorified babysitter for the heir of the Lucis Caelum family, it was, usually, a fairly simple job, Noctis was no where near as challenging as people would expect, given he was the heir to a massive criminal empire. Crowe, one of the other fixers employed by the Lucis Caelum family, often equated it to babysitting fish in a tank. It was something Nyx could agree on. Normally it was nothing to him to stand as a silent guard, a warning to any who dared try something.

But today had been anything but normal.

Especially when he had seen the man, a fellow fixer, who had escorted Sylva Nox Fleuret, matriarch and head of the Nox Fleuret family, into the church before the ceremony had begun.

Titus Drautos.

Known throughout their world as Glauca. He was one of the few fixers known to have killed at least two members of the High Table.

And Nyx had almost been floored by his surprise that Regis had allowed the man anywhere near him or his son.

Drautos was the one who had killed Regis' wife, Aulea, when Noctis had been eight.

He had also been the one to kill Regis' best friend and strongest ally, Clarus Amicitia.

All on the orders of Iedolas Aldercapt, another High Table member who had, as Libertus would say, held the leash of the infamous fixer.

A man that, a few years ago, Nyx had killed on the orders of Regis.

The family had expected retaliation, had expected Drautos to be once again sent against them, but all were surprised when Drautos chose to leave the services of his former employer's family and accept employment from the Nox Fleuret family.

It was a power play, Nyx knew, understand well what message Sylva was sending to the other families. Her organization was a great deal smaller than the rest and, as such, she, and her family, had been targeted more than once by those seeking to make a name for themselves. With Drautos at her command no one would ever again dare to cross her from fear of her unleashing the brutality that was Glauca.

Being in the same room as Drautos, even if there were several feet between them, set Nyx on edge and he suspected those around him could feel the tension running through him like an electric pulse.

He had never told Regis, not even after he'd been sent after Aldercapt, that he knew Drautos.

Had known him.

Past tense.

Drautos had been the one, all those years ago in the Continental in Galahd, to approach Nyx, to offer him a better life after seeing him handle a fixer who had decided to break the rules and attempt to kill someone on hotel grounds. Drautos had trained him, carefully, methodically, but, in the end, Nyx had chosen to walk away. Wanting to forge his own path free of the shadow that Drautos had cast.

Nyx stole another glance at Drautos, and, to his surprise, he found that familiar green gaze fixed on him.

They stood like that for a moment, staring at one another and, for just that moment, Nyx felt as though his soul was being laid bare and that Drautos could, just like all those years ago, see into the very heart of him.

He broke eye contact first, stiffening, gaze returning to the front of the church as the guests applauded and cheered as Noctis and Lunafreya began to make their way back down the aisle.

The reception was a whirlwind, too much noise, too many bodies, too many distractions that would make protecting Regis or his son difficult, and Nyx was surprisingly glad when Regis finally approached him, telling him his services were no longer required, that the regular security team could handle things for the rest of the night. It wasn't until he was halfway down the hallway outside the grand ballroom that Nyx realized the reason his presence had no longer been required was because Drautos, it seemed, had also been relieved of his duties for the evening.

The man, massive as he was, built as though he'd been carved from stone, was waiting by the elevators, arms crossed over his chest and a familiar, impatient scowl fixed on his scarred face.

Nyx hesitated, debated taking the stairs, but decided that was the childish, the cowardly, way out and, steeling his nerves, moved to step up beside Drautos, seeing the down button already lit.

He said nothing, didn't even look at the big man, tried to pretend they were just two strangers waiting for the elevator.

"You look good in that suit."

Nyx twitched and his gaze jumped to Drautos, fingers curling slightly, his impulse to reach for his hidden kukri burning through him but he fought it down. Regis would not be happy if he started a brawl at his son's wedding. Instead, he huffed out a breath and looked straight ahead again.

"I didn't know you owned a shirt that wasn't the color of blood," he fired back, his brain to mouth filter shutting down as it always had in Drautos' presence. He didn't need to look to know the older man was now smirking.

"As I recall," Drautos all but rumbled, sounding like the echo of distant thunder over the hills and Nyx couldn't help the shiver that trickled down his spine in response. "You were always fond of blue."

Nyx' gaze flickered, momentarily, to Drautos, to the shirt the man wore and he almost cursed as he realized that particular shade of blue perfectly matched the blue and purple coeurl tattooed down Nyx' left shoulder and bicep. A tattoo Drautos had sat, patiently, and watched him get. A reward for Nyx' first successful hit. It had also been the first time Nyx had crawled into bed with Drautos, instigating a more intimate relationship with the man only, a few short months later, to leave without so much as a word.

It had been cowardly, Nyx could at least admit that much to himself, but he'd known then, as he knew now, if he'd tried to explain his feelings, if he'd have faced the man, his resolve would have broken. He'd have stayed, even if Drautos gave him his blessing to go, he would have stayed with the man. Because, even now, though he hated to acknowledge it, he still loved Drautos.

But in their business love was a weakness.

Loving someone meant others would have leverage over you.

Love was death.

He was drawn from his thoughts when, unexpectedly, a hand cupped his cheek.

He let out a low huff of breath, a warning, and stepped back, putting distance between him and Drautos even as the older man's hand fell back to his side.

Drautos looked ready to say something but then the elevator dinged, the doors sliding open and, with one last look at the older man, Nyx turned and stepped into the elevator, hitting a button and waiting for the doors to close.

He stood there, silent, watching as Drautos looked at him again, that familiar gaze, a gaze that haunted his dreams, saying a thousand things and nothing at all. But then there was a flicker of something, something that Nyx couldn't name or place, and the doors started to slide shut only for Drautos' hand shot out between them, causing them to stop and open once more. Nyx felt himself bristle as Drautos stepped into the elevator. The already small space felt smaller still as they stood there, staring at one another. Both waiting for the other to make a move or say something.

There was a quiet ding and the doors slid silently shut behind Drautos, the elevator slowly staring to move, and the tension between them was so thick that Nyx could almost taste it.

Skin prickling, hair of the back of his neck standing up, Nyx opened his mouth to say something, anything, to try and break the tension, when Drautos suddenly moved, crowding into Nyx' space with a speed and precision that his size hid and hid well. Nyx reacted out of instinct and, with deft movements, his kukri was in hand, the razor edge to Drautos' throat.

Drautos didn't looked surprised, a small, barely there smile graced his face, and his hand came up, fingertips dancing over the smooth skin of Nyx' wrist.

"Do you truly think I want to hurt you, sweet boy," Drautos rumbled softly, almost purring, and Nyx couldn't help the way he trembled, faintly, at the old nickname.

"Can't be too careful," was Nyx' biting retort. "Our line of work makes it hard to know who to trust."

Drautos hummed almost thoughtful but shook his head, seemingly uncaring about the blade to his throat.

"I've always trusted you."

Nyx blinked, stunned by the declaration, and he searched Drautos' face for some sign that the man was lying, trying to trick him into dropping his guard.

"You never were so suspicious before," Drautos mused, watching him, waiting for him to make the next move.

"I learned not everyone had my back the way you did," Nyx bit out, surprising himself with the honesty, slowly, oh so slowly, lowering his blade, tucking it back into the hidden sheath at the small of his back.

"I heard about Luche." Drautos gave a nod. "And what you did to him. Certainly made an impression."

"Oh?" Nyx acted like he didn't know just what the others at the Continental, what members of the High Table, whispered about him when they thought he couldn't hear or wouldn't find out. "And what impression is that?"

"That a coeurl, no matter how seemingly tame, still has claws."

Nyx opened his mouth to retort but Drautos surprised him again, crowding further into his space and, without warning, ducked his head, mouth slotting over Nyx', tongue flicking out over the younger man's lower lip.

It happened so quickly, taking him off guard so much, that Nyx didn't react for a moment, too lost in the familiar, unforgettable, feeling that being kissed by Drautos had always stirred within him.

And when reality came crashing back he found himself not doing the sane thing.

He didn't pull away. He didn't push Drautos' away.

His hands came up, the intent to do something...else...pulsing in his mind, but the moment his hands made contact with Drautos' shoulders he found his fingers curling into the fabric of the man's expensive looking jacket and tugging him closer, kissing back with as much passion as Drautos gave.

Time blurred and the next thing Nyx was clearly aware of was being pressed back against the wall of the elevator, Drautos' hands gripping his hips tightly, his legs wrapped around the older man's waist and the not so quiet sounds passing his lips as Drautos rocked against him, their suits doing nothing to hide their shared arousal from one another. Nyx moaned, loudly, wantonly, against Drautos' mouth even as he drug his fingers through the older man's hair.

Nyx' eyes rolled back in his head when Drautos shifted slightly, hips pressing closer, rolling sharply, rubbing their erections together in a way that felt like lightning dancing up his spine. He moved one hand, reaching down, thinking to unzip their pants, take them both in hand, when the ding of the elevator, the hiss to the doors sliding open, jerked him back to the present, back to reality, with startling clarity.

He tore his mouth away from Drautos', head snapping sharply against the wall, making him hiss, and he looked over the older man's shoulder, checking to be certain no one had been there waiting for the elevator, that no one had seen them.

The hallway was thankfully empty.

"Nyx," Drautos murmured his name and Nyx' gaze snapped back to the man's face.

He knew he should demand to be released.

He knew he should walk away. Forget this ever happened.

But he'd been trying to forget Drautos for years and it hadn't worked.

Meeting that heated green gaze made him squirm and, foolish though it might be, he leaned back in, kissing Drautos quickly, feeling those large, warm hands flex against his hips. Drawing back, nipping lightly, teasingly, at Drautos' lips he couldn't help but grin when the older man growled faintly.

"Take me home, Titus," he whispered, looking through his lashes at the man, rolling his hips enticingly. Not caring where this dangerous road might lead. "Take me home and...and remind me why I love you." He leaned in, nuzzling at Drautos' neck before stretching up to whisper in his ear. "And in the morning...in the morning don't let me leave this time."

Drautos let out a low sound and Nyx let out a startled and breathless laugh as the older turned quickly, still holding him, easily carrying him, out of the elevator and off to whatever awaited them.


	4. Last Days

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Apocalypse AU

Three days.

It had been three days, trapped in a storeroom of what had once been a supermarket.

Trapped by the walking dead lingering outside. Clawing and banging at the door, snarling and hissing and growling and fighting to find a way in. Fighting to find a way to the prey they had chased blindly into a room with no way out besides the door that, sooner or later, was going to give way.

But even that first day, before they discovered there was no other way out of the room, Nyx had known he was going to die there.

The still oozing bite wound on his arm, flesh and muscle torn away by rotting, diseased teeth, had been proof of that.

Drautos had tended to the wound as best he could, given their limited supplies, but they both knew it was a futile effort. They both knew, even if they had managed to find some way out of this place, what fate waited for Nyx. It was just, for that first day or so, neither of them wanted to really acknowledge it.

Now there was no denying it. 

No hiding it.

Not when Nyx was ashen, shaking and sweating buckets. Not when the wound on his arm had started turning black and oozing blood that looked like tar.

Propped up against one of their packs, a blanket draped over him, Nyx watched as Drautos again tried to reach someone on their radio. He knew it was useless. They'd gone too far, scouting for supplies, and, even if someone did hear them, it was too late for him. Drautos they might be able to rescue but he, no matter what Drautos was trying to convince himself, was a lost cause.

"Ti...Titus..." 

He wheezed as he spoke, his voice barely more than a whisper, but in the otherwise silent room it was as loud as a gunshot. Drautos' gaze snapped immediately to him and, between one blink and the next, the older man was crouched at his side.

"It's okay," Drautos said softly, hands gentle on him, helping him to sit up more. "It's okay, baby. We...We have time. We just..."

Nyx shook his head, weakly, barely able to move, barely able to reach out and take Drautos' hand, lacing their fingers together.

"Don't..." Nyx coughed, chest rattling and, not for the first time, blood filled his mouth. Blood he barely managed to spit to the floor. "Don't lie...not now...please..."

Drautos let out a low sound, carefully wiping Nyx' lips, ignoring the continuous growls and feral sounds coming from just outside the room.

"Nyx," he whispered and Nyx shook his head again.

"We both know...both know...how this...is...is going to end..." Nyx leaned towards Drautos, cold to his very bones, wanting to feel the man's warmth. "Even if...Even if Lib or...or Luche found us...I'm...I'm gone..."

"Don't say that," Drautos snapped, unshed tears shimmering in his fierce green gaze and Nyx wished he could comfort and reassure the man. "Don't."

"It's better...better than lies." Nyx smiled slightly. "I don't...I don't want lies...not now...not when...when all I...want...is to...to feel your arms around me."

Drautos moved, shuffling them around, carefully, gently, so he was seated behind Nyx, pulling him against a warm, broad chest, arms wrapped around him tightly. Nyx could feel the warmth radiating from the man he loved but it didn't really help. The cold was still there. The infection having taken root the moment that foul mouth had torn into his flesh. He barely felt Drautos press a kiss to his temple, barely felt anything but the chill curling through him, but he wanted to. He wanted nothing more than to simply feel Drautos kiss him again.

"I'm..." Nyx coughed, blood speckling his too pale lips and he felt Drautos' hands rub over his sides, the man trying to comfort while knowing there was only one thing that would truly end Nyx' suffering. "I'm sorry...if I hadn't said...if I hadn't...we wouldn't be here if I...if I hadn't volunteered us for...for...scouting..."

Drautos shook his head.

"As I recall I agreed to the scouting," he reminded, pressing another kiss to Nyx' temple.

"But I...if I hadn't...if I had...had been more careful..."

"Hush." Drautos reached up, cupping Nyx' chin, turning his head and tipping it back slightly so their gazes could meet. "This wasn't your fault." He pressed a quick kiss to Nyx' lips, not caring about the blood or spit. "It was just...bad luck."

Nyx tried to laugh but it turned into a painful coughing fit that went on for several minutes and left him breathless and weak.

All the while Drautos held him and rocked him and tried to ease his suffering.

"Nyx, baby," Drautos started once Nyx was settled again, having collapsed back against the older man, but Nyx shook his head.

"I'm...I'm done," Nyx wheezed, tipping his head to look at Drautos through half lidded eyes. "We...We both know it..."

"Nyx..."

"I don't..." Nyx jerked when a loud bang echoed, the snarling and growling growing louder as the door cracked. Drautos hugged him tighter, cheek pressing to his sweaty hair and Nyx let out a low sound. "Don't have long...neither of us...do..."

The door creaked, the wood threatening to soon give way, and Nyx felt turns burn his eyes as he looked at Drautos again.

"I..." Nyx reached up, weakly, shakily, to touch Drautos' cheek. "I love...love...you, Titus...I...love you so much...and I...I don't want...don't...don't want either of...of us...becoming..."

"We won't." He let go of Nyx long enough to reach in his pocket, pulling out a grenade he had taken from Luche's stash before they had gone scouting. Nyx' eyes widened at the sight and he looked up at Drautos' face, seeing the conviction there.

"Titus..."

"We go together," Drautos said, hugging Nyx close again, pressing the grenade into the palm of Nyx' hand, finger hooking through the pin. "And we take as many of these undead bastards with us as we can."

Nyx gave a faint nod, tears spilling down his face, stretching up, straining to kiss Drautos as the door groaned loudly, about to give way at any moment.

Drautos kissed him then, deep and passionate and like he had a thousand times before, but it felt different at the same time. It felt final. A final kiss goodbye. When he drew back, slowly, he glanced towards the crack in the door, seeing the dead snarling, fighting harder to get in.

"I love you, Nyx Ulric," Drautos whispered against his lips, forehead resting against Nyx', their gazes locked and Nyx smiled, feeling peace finally wash over him for the first time in days.

"And I...I love...you...too...Titus Drautos."

Drautos kissed him again and, faintly, Nyx heard the door fall away, the debris of it slamming into the floor, the dead howling as they began pouring into the room, and he felt Drautos' finger move.

The last thing either of them knew was the taste of each other's lips. The feel of their body against them. Their shared love that would bind them together in whatever afterlife awaited them.

And then there was nothing.


	5. Fire

Not everyone was born an elemental.

The elders and priests said to be born with the power to control some part of the natural world was a gift from the Astrals. Blessings to show favour to only a select few.

Nyx Ulric really wished he hadn't been one of those so called blessed few.

His element had not presented itself until the age of four, when he accident set a classmate on fire for pushing him off the swings.

It had caused quite the stir, not only because he was an elemental but because of what his element was.

Those with the power of fire were not viewed the same as other elementals. The elders claimed those born with the power of fire were touched by Ifrit and, as such, cursed. Not blessed.

Nyx remembered his mother, devote woman that she was, had been inconsolable at the idea that her only son was cursed somehow. His father had been indifferent as always. And Nyx had learned to hide his element. Rarely using it. Never truly learning to control it.

Which was why, when the Niflheim war machine marched into Galahd, everything went to hell so quickly.

Nyx had tried to fight back, to finally use his powers for something, but it had ended in disaster.

His lack of training, of practice, meant the fires raged wildly, out of control, and the very people he was trying to protect paid the price. Homes and shops were razed to the ground. Innocent people were engulfed in flames along with the MT soldiers leading the attack. And, worst of all, his sister fell to his fire. Nyx had held her blackened body as a breeze reduced it to ash and carried the remains towards the sea.

His father left days later. His mother refused to speak to or see him.

He was blamed as much as Niflheim for the devastation and suffering.

And then came the invitation to join the Kingsglaive. He and a handful of others were offered a place in the elite force chosen to fight back against the invaders. To fight to restore peace to Lucis.

It wouldn't bring back those lost because of Nyx' inexperience, it wouldn't restore his sister or the love of his family, but it was a chance, however small, to make sure it never happened again.

Training to be a Kingsglaive was the most gruelling thing Nyx had ever done. He pushed himself to his very limits and then beyond, wanting, more than anything, to prove he belonged. To prove, especially to himself, that he was more than a harbinger of death and fire.

Unfortunately, during a particularly challenging day of training, of having his movements, his stances, mocked by full fledged members of the Kingsglaive, of having to be corrected again and again and _again_ by Captain Drautos, Nyx' control, limited as it was, snapped.

He heard Libertus, a friend from Galahd, who had been there the night his world had burned around him, shout his name as the fire burst along his palms, rippling and dancing like some living, breathing creature. When it shot forward, licking across the ground, making people shout and scramble to get away, Nyx shouted in fear, trying to control it, trying to master it, but to no avail.

Drautos didn't flinch.

The man didn't even move.

And then, as Nyx watched, certain he was about to kill one of the most respected men in Insomnia, in all of Lucis, Drautos moved his hand, two fingers flicking outwards.

Fire, dark as night with veins of purple, shot forth, encircling them both, warring with Nyx' uncontrollable blaze. Twisting and twinning around the golden red flames. As though Drautos' flames were consuming Nyx', as though it were smothering it.

And, in the end, nothing was left but those eerie, haunting flames that gave no heat, that did not burn as they danced around Nyx, who was kneeling, eyes wide with shock and fear, his entire body trembling as Drautos slowly approached him, those dark flames parting before the man gracefully before extinguishing with a simple wave of the Captain's hand.

Drautos continued to approach until he was directly in front of Nyx, who knelt there, staring up at the man.

"You are a liability," the Captain said firmly, not a hint of emotion in his voice, but his eyes burned the same way his fire did. "If you cannot control your element I have no use for you."

Nyx shrank in on himself.

Drautos was right. He knew that. But it still stung to hear it.

And then the Captain was extending a hand to him.

"But if you can learn to harness it, control it, you will have a place among my Glaives."

Nyx gave a slow, shaky nod, grasping Drautos' hand and letting the Captain, his Captain, help him to his feet.

From that day on, Drautos spent extra time with Nyx, helping him, teaching him how to control his element as he should have been taught since childhood. It took time. And didn't always end well, lots of training dummies were lost in the process, but, after a time, Nyx was, for the first time in his life, able to control the fire. No longer was it wild and untameable. Now it answered to him. It obeyed him.

For the first time he felt like he could breath, could be himself, without fear of losing control.

For the next several years he fought and bleed for his country. For his king. For the Captain who went from being commander to friend to lover.

And then his world burned and turned to ashes around him once more.

As the sun rose that last morning, the fire of the Old Kings of Lucis burning through him, Nyx crawled, skin peeling and flaking away, to where Drautos lay dying with Nyx' dagger embedded in his chest through the torn armour he wore.

"I always knew," Nyx croaked, reaching out, taking Drautos' hand, watching that familiar gaze, a gaze that had once looked at him so kindly, so lovingly, focused on him and he felt a familiar tingle burn through the air. "I would...I would one day burn..." 

He was finding it harder to breath. 

"But I...I always thought it would be my...my fire...or...or maybe yours." 

He smiled slightly. He hated what Drautos had done but he could understand it. In a different life he might have easily, happily, sided with his Captain.

And with the Old Kings magic burning through him, Nyx knew there wasn't much time.

"I always thought the same," Drautos whispered back and, between their palms, their flames ignited, small, twining, and Nyx was glad the man understood.

"Together?" Nyx watched as their fires, conjured and twisting like snakes, wrapped around their hands, the heat strange yet familiar, igniting what clothing it could reach.

Drautos gave a faint nod, the light still not quite faded from is eyes but starting to dim.

Nyx leaned forward, pressing his forehead against Drautos', clutching the older man's hand tightly before their combined fires roared to life in a brilliant blaze of black, purple and golden red.

Nyx had always known his fate was to burn.

At least he didn't burn alone.


	6. Lying to Protect

When Drautos received word that a suspected member of the Glaive, a rebel group that sought to overthrow the current government, he hurried from his office and down to the holding cells.

It had been a long time since they had managed to capture a Glaive, even a suspected one, and, as General of Chancellor Izunia's elite forces, it was his duty to question the prisoner and determine if they had any information that would be useful or if his men had jumped to conclusions and arrested the wrong person.

By the time he reached the holding cells he was surprised to find some of his top men crowded around the door, whispering among themselves as they exchanged worried looks. Frowning, Drautos cleared his throat, loudly, causing them all to jerk and spin around, snapping immediately to attention when they caught sight of him.

"Sir," Luche, first among his lieutenants, stood straight, shoulders back, looking for all the world to be a soldier acting accordingly in front of his commander but the look on his face, the look in his eyes, was almost frightened. Haunted. "It's..."

Drautos held up a hand, silencing the blonde, who looked as though he were about to keep speaking despite the command, but he merely gave a nod and stepped aside to let Drautos pass.

The others parted like a wave, though their expressions were all very similar to Luche's, and he stepped to the open doorway.

What he saw made him freeze and his heart leap to his throat as disbelief shot through him like a bolt of lightning.

Sitting, chained to the chair, was an impossibility.

Blood dripped from a cut lip and dark hair hung mussed and tangled around a pale and battered face. The left side of that otherwise handsome face was a patchwork of spider web scarring that traveled down a slender neck and could be seen lacing across the back of his hand.

It wasn't possible.

It wasn't.

Drautos understood why his men were reacting so oddly.

But this was _not_ possible.

"Nyx?"

That dark head lifted and eyes, bright as a summer sky reflected in clear ocean water, fixed on him.

His heart leapt again as a familiar, cocky smirk spread across that impossible face.

"Nice to see you too, handsome."

The voice, a voice that had haunted his dreams for almost five years now, was nearly enough to drive Drautos to his knees.

He had to focus on remaining standing, fighting to keep himself from rushing forward and dragging Nyx into his arms, fighting to keep from making a fool of himself in front of his men. Men who had also known Nyx. Who had called him friend and brother and comrade. Men who, like Drautos, had believed Nyx dead. Men who, like Drautos, had watched, helpless, as Nyx had burned.

"What..." Drautos shook his head and stepped into the room, slowly, carefully, this could be some sort of trick after all, unable to tear his gaze from the young man before him.

He tried to harden himself, refusing to believe that it was truly Nyx sitting before him, refusing to believe it to be anything other than some sort of trick. He'd seen powerful illusion magic before. The fallen king of Lucis, Regis, had been quite skilled at it. And, given that Regis was responsible for the blaze that had taken Nyx' life, it wasn't beyond belief that the man would do something like this just to see Drautos and his forces squirm.

"Who are you?"

Nyx, no, not Nyx, it wasn't Nyx, it couldn't be Nyx, blinked.

"You..." A huff of laughter passed those bloodstained lips. "You...You're joking right?"

Drautos scowled and pretended not to hear the whispers behind him.

"You are _not_ Nyx Ulric. Nyx Ulric is _dead_."

The imposter blinked up at him, seemingly confused, and his head tipped slightly. Too similar to the man he was pretending to be and Drautos fought down the urge to wrap his hand around the bastard's throat.

"Funny," not-Nyx said, grinning cheekily. "Because I feel pretty lively."

Drautos lashed out, fist connecting with the imposter's jaw with enough force that, had the chair not been bolted to the floor, would have knocked the little shit over.

"You," Drautos snarled, hand fisting in the prisoner's hair, wrenching his head back to glare down at him. "Are _NOT_ Nyx Ulric!"

The prisoner sneered up at him then and Drautos felt as though someone had kicked him in the gut. Nyx, his Nyx, the real Nyx, used to look at him like that from time to time too.

"That's funny too," the man wheezed. "You used to...hit...harder."

Drautos snarled again and tugged sharply, harshly, at the imposter's hair, earning a painful hiss in response.

"If you're Nyx Ulric," he growled out. "Then tell me something only he would know. Something he and I shared between us and only us."

The prisoner glared at him but then, just for a moment, that sharp gaze softened.

"You've got a Galahdian tattoo." That bright gaze dropped to Drautos' thigh before slowly sliding back up to the General's face. "Around your upper thigh. I used to lick it before sucking your..."

Drautos let out a startled sound and released those dark tresses as though burned.

No one else knew about the tattoo.

It had been a gift from Nyx after their first year anniversary. Done by Nyx' own hand. One of the few things he had to remember the younger man by.

There was no way that a stranger would have known about it.

"General?" Luche's voice drew him from his thoughts and he half turned as his second approached, holding out a data pad. "His prints and blood...they match."

Drautos' eyes widened as he took the data pad, examining the results, double checking them, before turning to look at the prisoner again.

A cocky smirk spread across that pale and battered face.

"Surprise," Nyx said, still smirking but there was a brittle edge to it, like broken glass crushed beneath a boot heel.

"Nyx..." 

Drautos still couldn't believe this, couldn't believe the love of his life was really there, was real. Nyx chuffed softly and shook his head, spitting a glob of blood to the floor.

"Yeah, I know, I thought I was dead too that night." Nyx glanced from Drautos to his former comrades, all staring wide eyed at him. "Interesting thing, the Old Kings' magic. I can see why the Chancellor is so wary of it."

"Nyx," Drautos started to reached for Nyx but the younger man jerked back as far as the chair would allow.

"Don't." Nyx' gaze hardened, becoming like that of an enraged coeurl. "Don't look at me like that."

"Like what?"

"Like everything is okay." Nyx shook his head. "You left me, Titus." He looked again at Luche and the others. "You all left me." He looked back up at Drautos. "You stood there and did nothing while I _burned_."

"Nyx, I..." 

Drautos couldn't exactly claim to be surprised when Nyx spit at him.

" _YOU LET ME BURN!_ "

That fierce gaze blazed and Nyx suddenly stained against the cuffs, muscles flexing and the metal digging sharply into soft flesh.

"All of you!" He spat the words, venom dripping from each one, and the others flinched back, wary of the ghost of a man before them. "You all stood there, watching, doing _nothing_ , as I screamed for help! I could see you through the flames, through the smoke, and I cried and begged you to help me and you all just stood there! _You just stood there!_ "

Drautos couldn't help but flinch again at the hurled, truthful words.

Nyx was right.

He, and the others, had stood and done nothing to try and help Nyx while Regis' fire had blazed. But the flames had moved as though alive, no doubt dancing to Regis' command, and even if they had wanted to try and rescue Nyx there had been no way they could. Not that that truth would be of any comfort to Nyx, who had suffered unimaginably in the flames, and Drautos, though he yearned to speak them, to explain, kept the words firmly behind his teeth.

"You're right," he said instead, watching those fierce eyes snap to his face. "We did nothing to help you. To save you." 

He took a step forward, reaching out, ignoring the whisper in his mind saying Nyx could easily bite him, take a few fingers, to cup Nyx' scarred cheek. He pretended not to notice how the younger man flinched beneath his palm.

" _I_ failed you," Drautos said softly, praying that something, some part of Nyx, still cared for him, still loved him. As he still cared for and loved Nyx. "I...I didn't save you."

Nyx sat there, still as stone, staring unblinking up at Drautos and, for just a moment, he leaned into Drautos' touch, turning his head just slightly, rubbing his cheek along the man's hand, the scars rough beneath equally rough fingers.

The moment, tender as it appeared, was swiftly broken when Nyx, proving his rage burned as fiercely as the fire that had nearly claimed his life, sank his teeth into the junction where Drautos' thumb met his hand.

A commotion broke out in the doorway as Drautos' blood, warm and wet, slid over his skin and, despite the pain and his instincts screaming at him to withdraw, to escape, Drautos clenched his jaw and didn't move. Didn't do anything beyond twitch. Not once did he break eye contact with Nyx. Trying desperately to express with his gaze what he still so deeply felt for Nyx. What he would always feel for him.

A moment passed, a heartbeat really, and Nyx slowly withdrew his teeth, silently snarling up at his former General.

Drautos stared down at Nyx.

At the broken, haunting figure that had, once, been his greatest love.

That was still his greatest love.

For all his loyalty to the Empire, Drautos knew that, in the end, his love and loyalty to Nyx would win out.

It always had.

Drawing a deep breath he slowly turned, walking away even as Nyx threw taunt after taunt at his retreating back. Each barb was vicious and cruel, twisting the knife that had been lodged in his heart since the night he'd thought Nyx lost to him forever deeper still. With a gesture of his hand, his men retreated from the room as well, the door closing shut as Nyx began screaming, calling them cowards.

Drautos stood there, for barely a moment, before the confused and concerned silence was broken by Luche.

"What do we do," the man asked, voice barely above a whisper, his gaze darting from Drautos to the door and back again. Even a blind man could have seen that Luche was torn between his duty and loyalty to the Empire and his friendship with a man long thought dead.

Drautos' lips pursed. He had already weighed the options, knowing by now word would have reached Chancellor Izunia of the capture of a potential Glaive. He knew the order he would be given should the Chancellor decide Nyx was indeed a traitor or spy. Torture, for information Nyx may or may not have. Torture that Drautos and his men would be expected to deal. And, afterwards, if Nyx withstood the agony, if he refused to give up whatever information he may have, a very public and painful execution. A warning to all and any who would think of turning against Chancellor Izunia and the Empire.

Drautos did not know if Nyx even _was_ a Glaive. Just as he had no idea how the man had survived Regis' inferno.

Too many unanswered questions.

Too many paths to walk.

All just as dangerous as the next.

And all the while all he kept thinking was that he had to protect Nyx.

Drawing a deep breath, Drautos looked at his men, seeing his own doubts and conflict reflected in their faces.

They were waiting for his decision. His order.

Whatever he chose, whatever fate he brought down upon Nyx, they would stand beside.

No matter that Nyx had once been their friend, their brother-in-arms.

And yet he knew they would not want to carry out those orders. Would not, any more than he did, want to bring further harm and suffering to Nyx.

It left only once choice.

A single chance to do what they had been unable to do before.

Save Nyx.

No matter the cost.

**_oOoOoOo_ **

Drautos reported to Chancellor Izunia alone. Reported the man captured, the suspected Glaive, had been nothing but a merchant, that a newly appointed member of his elite had, not surprisingly, gotten overly eager to prove himself to his General and Chancellor and made a mistake. It happened, he explained, when youthful exuberance had yet to be beaten down by experience. Chancellor Izunia had dismissed the incident, more focused on a possible sighting of Regis, and the man's son, than to be concerned over some soldier's mistake. He left it to Drautos to properly punish the offender.

When he returned to the holding cell, freeing Nyx, leading him from the room and down a winding corridor that led to a western gate that in turn led to the market district where, given his talents, Nyx could vanish once more. Back to wherever he had been for the last five years.

He did all of it alone, not wanting to risk his men should the truth be discovered, and was not surprised when Nyx looked at him funnilyy at the gate rather than flee when presented with the first opportunity of freedom. The younger man was no fool. He understood the situation could be some sort of trick, a way of leading Drautos and his men back to whomever it was that Nyx now gave his loyalty to. Those eyes, sharp as steel, bore into Drautos like a blade.

"Why?"

It was a good question, one with a long and lengthy answer. So many reasons. So many things to be said or done.

But in the end, Drautos' answer was simple.

"Because I love you."

Nyx stared at him for a moment, seemingly unmoved by the declaration, or the soft look in Drautos' eyes.

He turned away, took a step, and then stopped.

He didn't turn back to Drautos, didn't even look over his shoulder, but spoke quietly.

"Lestallum. Two days. If you want a chance to be remembered for more than being a monster at Izunia's command be at the Dancing Pig."

"Nyx," Drautos started to reach for the younger man but Nyx began walking.

"Two days, Titus."

Drautos stood there, watching as Nyx stepped into the market, into the darkness and the thin crowd of shopkeepers, disappearing like the damn ghost Drautos had first thought him to be.


	7. Comrades

Magdalena knew the others, her fellow Glaives, fallen from what they had once been but still willing to fight, to protect those who would just as soon spit on them and call them traitors, did not understand, or accept, her decision to wear the colors of their former Captain. They did not understand or accept that she still felt some small sense of loyalty to a man who had been a traitor not only to the Kingsglaive but to all of Lucius.

Titus Drautos was a traitor and a kingslayer. There was no pretending otherwise, not that Magdalena dismissed the man's crimes or forgave them, but he had also been her mentor. He had been the one to help her stand from the ashes that had become her world after Galahd fell. After she had lost her home and parents to the fires of war. He had helped her find her strength, a strength that had kept her alive when countless others had fallen.

He was a traitor and a kingslayer but a part of her would always be grateful to the man for giving her the chance to be something more.

It was a difficult thing to balance, the respect and rage, but she thought she handled it pretty well.

At least until a new truck full of refugees arrived in Lestallum.

She had been just coming off gate duty when she heard a commotion, saw some of her fellow Glaives drawing their weapons, looking ready to go in for the kill, and, thinking a daemon or rogue MT had gotten passed the gate, she warped forward to join them.

What she saw stunned her.

Standing, slumped against the side of the truck, nose bleeding, dressed in ragged clothes that had clearly seen better days, was Titus Drautos, former Captain of the Kingsglaive.

Which wasn't possible.

He was dead.

Or he was supposed to be dead.

Pushing through the other Glaives, seeing them glance at her, at the blade strapped to her back, she stared at the impossible.

Drautos looked at her, his green gaze flicking from her face to the sword she carried, the sword she had taken to remind herself why she was fighting, what she was fighting for, and he slowly straightened up. He towered over her, as he always had, but for once she was not intimidated.

"Hello, Octavi..."

She slammed her fist into his face, staggering him, her knuckles burning with pain and she fired a command over her shoulder.

"Get the Captain." When no one immediately moved, stunned by what was happening, by the reappearance of Drautos and Magdalena's reaction to him, she snarled sharply. "Now!"

Cayden, a Glaive from Cleigne, nodded and warped away to find Libertus.

Magdalena quickly shifted her attention back to Drautos, who had straightened up once more, though now he watched her warily, clearly having received the message that, though she carried his sword, she was not his friend.

"Octavius," he started, lifting a hand towards her, but Magdalena shook her head, wisps of hair falling across her face, catching on the edge of her glasses.

"Don't." 

Her hand dropped to the Imperial dagger on her belt, feeling the pulse of the Just's sigil hum through her veins, ready to call up a shield, to defend herself and her fellow Glaives at a moments notice.

"You don't," she said firmly, gaze narrowed. "Get to speak to me like I'm one of your Glaives. Not now. Not after what you did."

Drautos stared at her for a moment before glancing around.

"I'm surprised Mateo isn't at my throat by now, he never could resist a chance to challenge me," he said softly, looking back at Magdalena just in time to see her flinch at the mention of her brother. He knew, of course he did, from that single flinch, why Mateo wasn't there. "Magdalena..."

"Don't!" She moved without thinking, but didn't draw her dagger, instead she had drawn the sword from her back, the blade coming to rest against Drautos' neck. "Don't you _dare_ tell me you're sorry. Not when you helped bring the daemons into Insomnia that killed him! Not when you betrayed everything you taught us to fight for! To believe in!"

Drautos didn't say anything, didn't try to defend himself, merely stood there and looked at her.

"It should have been you," she hissed, pressing the sword a little closer, tempted beyond words, beyond belief, to simply end this. To take Drautos' head and be done with it all. But she would not become like him. She would not spit on the memories of those who had died because of the man's treachery. She would not dishonour her brother's memory, or Nyx' memory, simply to make herself feel better for a single moment.

"Octavius!" Libertus voice boomed and she twitched, glancing over her shoulder, watching her Captain approach. "Stand down!"

When she didn't move immediately, didn't fall to command quickly enough, Libertus snapped again.

"Now, Octavius!"

Slowly, still glaring at Drautos, Magdalena lowered her weapon, stepping back, watching as Libertus, flanked by several Glaives, stepped up to the former Captain.

The tension increased and Magdalena watched as Libertus and Drautos stared at one another, time seeming to stand still as the world all but held its breath, waiting for the coming fallout.

When Libertus let out an enraged sound, snarling out a curse in Galahdian, driving his fist into Drautos' face, knocking him back against the truck, Magdalena was ready to jump in, to shield him, but Drautos did not retaliate, merely looked at Libertus as he reached up to rub a hand along the edge of his jaw.

"Good to see you too, _Captain_ ," Drautos said and Libertus spat out an insult again in Galahdian, taking a step forward as he jabbed a finger in Drautos' direction.

" _You_ are no Glaive," Libertus snarled, the Glaives watching tensing further, readying for a fight, but Magdalena saw in Libertus' eyes that, no matter how much he wanted Drautos dead for his crimes, for being the reason he'd lost his best friend, that, like herself, he couldn't bring himself to sink that low. "And I am _not_ your Captain!"

Libertus turned, barking out orders to the gathered Glaives to get back to their stations or move along, that the show was over, before storming off back the way he had come.

Magdalena lingered a moment, looking at Drautos once more before turning, her sword, _his_ sword, sheathed once more across her back. She made it a few steps before his voice, soft yet searching, called her name. She hesitated, torn between walking away and hearing him out, but she knew if she stayed, if she listened, there was a good chance she'd be willing to give him a second chance. Hell, he'd risked a lot by coming to Lestallum, by revealing he was still alive, and she knew herself well enough to know that, given enough time and gentle words, her resolve would break.

Without looking back she did the only thing she could think to do to protect herself from the fallout that would bring.

She ran.


End file.
